My Heart Wasn't Satisfied
by arysa13
Summary: Clarke pisses off a witch who curses her to eternal life without orgasms, except by the hand of her one true love.
**Okay I'm so sorry I have no idea what this is... hope you enjoy.**

* * *

"I can't believe you dragged me here," Clarke mutters as she follows Octavia and Raven into the shop, the tinkle of the bell sounding jarringly normal despite how weird Clarke finds the whole thing. She screws up her nose as the stench of incense assaults her nostrils.

"Shut up," Octavia hisses, her eyes flicking to the woman behind the counter, dressed in all black with a severe case of resting bitch face. The dimly lit shop is crammed to the brim with junk like tarot cards and candles and crystals, and though Clarke in no way believes in witches or magic, the whole vibe of the place gives her the creeps. Her arm brushes against something and she jumps back, crashing into a shelf and almost smashing a handful of vials filled with god knows what. Clarke makes eye contact with the girl behind the counter who eyes her accusatorily.

"Can you just get what you came here to get so we can leave?" Clarke says in a hushed whisper. Octavia rolls her eyes and marches up to the front counter, Clarke following her. Raven wanders off to browse the shelves.

"Hi," Octavia says to the woman. "Are you Anya?"

"Yes," she says, bored. "And you're Octavia."

"Right," Octavia nods. "My husband and I, we really want to get pregnant. We've tried everything and nothing works and he mentioned you and I just…" she trails off, looking at Anya desperately. Clarke rolls her eyes. She knows this is Octavia's last resort, but she's pretty sure if nothing medical has helped Octavia get pregnant, some stupid witchcraft isn't going to help. Anya glances at Clarke disdainfully.

"Your friend is a non-believer," Anya says acidly.

"Ignore her," Octavia says flippantly. "Can you help me or not?" Anya nods and motions for Octavia to follow her out the back, past the shelves of dusty brown books, which Clarke thinks are probably filled with nonsense words pretending to be spells. She huffs and goes to join Raven who is engrossed in some kind of pamphlet about the healing powers of crystals.

"It says here that moonstone is supposed to help with stress," Raven muses interestedly.

"Come on, you don't really believe in this crap, do you?" Clarke scoffs. Raven shrugs, putting the pamphlet back and picking up a piece of jade and handing it to Clarke.

"This will help you find love," she smirks. Clarke snorts and tosses the jade back into its basket.

"This whole place is ridiculous," Clarke announces.

"You know, you shouldn't mock what you don't understand," Anya's voice startles her and she whips around quickly. Anya and Octavia have returned to the front counter.

"I understand it," Clarke replies haughtily. "I just think it's stupid."

" _Clarke_ ," Octavia warns, but Clarke just rolls her eyes.

"Oh, what's she going to do? Curse me?" she scoffs.

"I could," Anya says dryly.

"Go ahead," Clarke dares her. "I'm so dreading that eternal sleep that can only be woken by true love's first kiss," she mocks. Anya narrows her eyes.

"We can arrange that," she says, totally expressionless. She smirks then and Clarke feels inexplicably cold for a moment. "But sleep is boring. How about this? You will never be able to orgasm again, except by the hand of your one true love," Anya says, her voice sickly sweet and Clarke has to suppress a shiver.

"You're fucking crazy," she spits. "I'm going to wait outside," she tells Octavia and Raven, storming out of the shop. She pulls out her phone while she waits and sends a message to Bellamy.

 **Octavia has gone insane**

His response is almost instantaneous.

 ** _Was she not already insane?_**

 **Now she's more insane. She dragged Raven and me to a witch shop.**

 ** _Can you pick me up some eye of newt while you're there? I'm almost out._**

 **Ha. Also apparently I'm cursed now.**

 ** _What kind of curse? Eternal sleep kind of curse or turned into a hideous beast kind of curse?_**

Octavia and Raven walk outside then, both with paper bags in their hands, presumably with purchases from the shop. Clarke looks at them disapprovingly.

"What? You're the one who got cursed," Raven points out.

"Yeah, good luck living an orgasmless life," Octavia snorts.

"You guys know that's not true," Clarke pouts. "Curses aren't _real_."

"I don't know if they're real or not, but I'm sure as hell glad it was you and not me," Octavia laughs. Clarke just sighs, thinking how glad she is that she doesn't believe in magic or witches or curses.

* * *

That night, she's not exactly out to prove the curse isn't real, but she's got her apartment to herself and a night of nothing planned so she figures she may as well make the most of it.

She runs herself a bath, fills it with bubble bath, and lights some candles. Normal scented candles. None of those strange witch ones from the shop today. She does her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head and sinks into the hot water, letting the perfume of the bubble bath and the candles envelop her. She closes her eyes and lets her mind and hands wander, and inevitably her thoughts settle on Bellamy and it's his hand she imagines between her thighs instead of her own. It's probably not that weird to have sexual thoughts about your best friend, right? It doesn't mean anything, she just thinks he's hot and has nice hands and his freckles are cute and stuff. Normal friend stuff.

She whines softly as her fingers make contact with her clit and she sinks deeper into the water. She imagines Bellamy in the bath with her, pressed against her as his thumb rubs her clit and his fingers part her folds, entering her as her own fingers do in real life and she gives a low moan. She thrusts inside herself then, her walls clenching around her two fingers, feeling the pressure build inside her until she's right on the edge desperate to come. Only, she can't quite get herself over. She thrusts harder, angling her hips to hit the right spot more easily and she groans in frustration as she continues her motions, but her hand is getting tired and she can't quite get there. She gives up on that then and begins just furiously rubbing her clit, hoping to get herself off fast. But she only finds herself more frustrated because she's _right there_ , she can feel it, but no amount of friction can bring her release.

Of course, she refuses to accept that this has anything to do with the curse. She's just having an off day and needs some help. She stands up abruptly, stepping out of the bath and drying herself off before wrapping the towel around herself and walking back to her bedroom.

She locates her vibrator and loses the towel, lying down on her bed, her legs spread wide. She's already wet as hell and the vibrator slides in easily. She switches it on and her climax immediately starts to climb again. She was so close before, it shouldn't take long now, and there, she's almost there again, she can feel it. She bucks her hips against the whirring device inside her, trying to bring her orgasm on faster, her desperation growing. But the longer she fucks herself, the more she realises that her release isn't coming. She cries out in frustration, switching the vibrator off and throwing it across the room angrily. Her pussy throbs painfully, and god, she just wants to come, but she knows now it's impossible. That fucking witch cursed her after all.

She whines pathetically, sprawled naked on her bed, craving an orgasm like she's never craved it before. And there's absolutely nothing she can do short of finding her one true love, which of course is more ridiculous than the curse itself.

* * *

Clarke doesn't tell anyone when she returns to Anya's shop the following morning. Bellamy would never believe her, Octavia and Raven would just say "I told you so" and there's no way she's telling any of her other friends about her predicament.

So she walks back into the smoky shop, ready to grovel, and Anya hardly looks surprised to see her.

"How can I help?" Anya says smugly, and Clarke's early plans to beg and grovel are immediately thrown out the window.

"You fucking cursed me," Clarke spits. Her anger is half due to Anya's smug face and half because she's very sexually frustrated right now, having tried to masturbate again that morning in case the whole thing was a bad dream. It wasn't.

"Yes," Anya nods.

"Take it back," Clarke demands.

"No."

"Please," Clarke begs. Grovelling probably is the best course of action after all. "I believe you now. I don't think this stuff is stupid. Just lift the curse so I can…" she trails off and Anya smirks at her.

"If you want an orgasm you're going to have to find your true love," Anya shrugs.

"Come on, there's no such thing as true love," Clarke scoffs. Anya just grins wider.

"Then I guess sex won't be much fun for you from now on," she says innocently.

"I hate you," Clarke growls. Anya seems neither surprised nor phased by this statement. "Listen, how much money do you want to lift this curse? I'll give you whatever."

"But seeing you suffer is so much more fun," Anya tells her maliciously. Clarke groans but Anya doesn't budge. "Goodbye, Clarke." Clarke gives Anya the dirtiest sneer she can muster as she storms out of the shop, regretting that she ever set foot in there in the first place.

* * *

Clarke manages to go a week before she ends up telling Raven and Octavia that the curse is real, and that's only because she's busy all week and doesn't have time to think about the curse, let alone see her friends. But she drags them aside, away from their other friends while they're at a bar on Friday night, and not surprisingly, neither Raven nor Octavia has any trouble accepting this information and immediately get to making fun of her about it.

"Guys, you don't understand," Clarke groans. "I can literally never orgasm again unless I find my fucking true love, if a true love even exists."

"Well, I guess you're just going to have to try everyone until you find the right person," Raven laughs.

"It isn't funny," Clarke scowls. "It's torture."

"Raven's right though," Octavia says. "You're just going to have to fuck a heap of different people until you find the right one. This is no time for normal dating." She's refusing to drink tonight in case she's pregnant. She firmly believes Anya's fertility potion will work, and the fact that Clarke's curse is real only solidifies the matter in her mind.

"Great, well. Who in this bar looks like my soulmate?" Clarke scans the room, because she knows Octavia and Raven are right. She has to find the right person, and to find them she has to fuck them. Octavia looks over at the rest of their friends.

"You could try Bellamy," she says innocently, and Clarke rolls her eyes. Octavia has been trying to get them together forever. Clarke loves Bellamy, of course, but she's pretty sure it's just in a friend way.

"Don't be stupid."

"Well it obviously can't be Miller or Monty, and out of the others who would rather your true love be? Murphy?" Octavia points out. She's right of course, Clarke has absolutely no desire to be with any of their friends.

"Why does it have to be one of our friends?" Clarke questions.

"What about her?" Raven points to a blonde who is being hit on by some guy, and she looks thoroughly unimpressed by it.

"Worth a shot," Clarke sighs. She downs her drink and goes to try her luck with the girl.

As it turns out, Niylah is not her one true love. Clarke has to fake an orgasm so she doesn't hurt her feelings and as soon as she's gone she send a group text to Raven and Octavia that she wasn't the one. And none of the next four people she sleeps with are the one either, and she's growing more and more frustrated as the weeks go by and she still hasn't been able to orgasm.

Of course this makes it increasingly harder to be around people in general because all she can think about is sex. Okay, well maybe not people in general. It's mostly just Bellamy she's around when she can't seem to think about anything but grinding her crotch on his lap, chasing the release she so desperately needs. Which doesn't make sense, because they're supposed to be just friends. She doesn't think about him that way. Well, except when she's alone with her vibrator, but that totally doesn't count. But when she's sitting beside him at the bar, her skin tingling every time he accidentally brushes against her and an unrelenting throbbing between her legs, not to mention her consistently damp panties whenever he's around, she's beginning to wonder if what she feels for him is not exactly friendship after all. He could be her one true love right? He's probably really good in bed, especially if she's going by what Raven's told her. But she brushes off the thought and instead just presses her legs together tighter and tries to ignore it. When that doesn't work, she excuses herself and heads to the bar for a drink.

"Everything okay?" the bartender asks as Clarke drops her head onto the bar.

"Can you die of sexual frustration?" she groans.

"Uh, is that a serious question?" Bellamy's voice replies. Clarke immediately shoots up, her face bright red.

"That depends, do you have a serious answer?"

"Sorry, think I'm all out of serious answers tonight," Bellamy grins. "Why would you be sexually frustrated anyway? You seem to be getting a hell of a lot of action recently," he notes with a smirk.

"You noticed that, huh?" Clarke groans.

"I'm not judging," he says quickly. "So, who's your target tonight?" Bellamy looks around the bar. "Her?" he nods at a woman just down the bar from them. Clarke had in fact been considering going up to her, but honestly, she's exhausted. She's sick of hooking up with randoms and having to fake an orgasm every time, all the while going completely unsatisfied. She's beginning to think she's destined for a life of celibacy. She just shrugs at Bellamy's question.

"I could be your wingman," he suggests. She raises an eyebrow at him.

"Does it look like I need a wingman?" she scoffs.

"Well you are sitting here complaining about your sexual frustration instead of flirting with her, so maybe you do," he shrugs.

"I think I'm just going to go home actually," Clarke sighs.

"You need a lift?" Bellamy asks. Clarke only hesitates a moment before accepting. They say their goodbyes to their other friends and head to Bellamy's car. They're both silent for a moment, and Clarke is sure he must be able to hear the sound of her heart thumping. She's acutely aware of his presence, sitting beside her in the driver's seat, and her nerves are so tense from four weeks of being unable to orgasm that she feels like she might implode from the sheer proximity of him. Which is a totally normal way to feel around a friend, she's pretty sure.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," Bellamy says, breaking the silence, which probably wasn't as long as Clarke felt it was.

"Yeah, I've been avoiding you," she jokes, still feeling a little tense, which is totally _ridiculous,_ since their _just friends._

"So I watched this movie the other day on Netflix, you have to see it," Bellamy starts saying and Clarke manages to relax as he tells her about the movie, and she barely thinks about his cock at all in the short drive to her apartment.

"It's still pretty early, you want to hang out for a bit?" Clarke asks as Bellamy pulls up outside her apartment building. After all, it _has_ been ages since they've hung out, just the two of them. It seems like a good opportunity.

He follows her up to her apartment, and he's talking, Clarke's sure of that, but what he's saying she wouldn't have a clue because she's beginning to realise inviting him inside might have been a huge mistake. Which, it would be fine under normal circumstances. But he looks so good tonight, and she's gone four weeks without one single orgasm and her skin is buzzing with electricity, just waiting for him to touch her. Fuck, she definitely wants him. These are definitely not friendship feelings. She panics a little at the realisation.

He's totally oblivious of course, even as she struggles to unlock her door because her hands are shaking so much, and purposefully scoots away from him so he can't brush against her.

"You want me to put that movie on I was telling you about?" Bellamy asks. Clarke nods and quickly heads to the bathroom to splash some water on her face, hoping to cool down a little.

"Get it together, Clarke," she mutters to herself in the bathroom mirror. She walks back to the living room and joins Bellamy on the couch, not touching him, but close enough to make it look like she's acting normal. But god, every nerve in her body is yearning for him to touch her.

"By the way, what we were talking about earlier. You hooking up a lot. I mean, it's your business, but is everything okay?" He looks at her in concern and she feels her face heat up under his gaze. She screws up her nose.

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh, okay?"

"Okay," Bellamy agrees seriously.

"Remember how Octavia dragged me to that witch shop? And I told you I got cursed?" she reminds him.

"Yeah," he nods.

"That curse was real." He eyes her dubiously.

"And what was the curse? You'll die if you don't have sex with someone different every weekend?" Bellamy snorts, clearly not believing in any curse.

"Okay, see I knew you'd think it was stupid," Clarke huffs, turning away from him. He reaches out a hand to stop her.

"No, come on," he says, grinning. "I believe in the curse, I promise." Clarke pouts at him and he tries to make his face look serious. "What's the curse?"

Clarke can't bring herself to look at him as she mutters the curse under her breath.

"I can never orgasm again except by the hand of my one true love," she tells him, just loud enough to hear, her face going bright red. It really does sound stupid, she doesn't blame him for the laughter he has to choke back.

"Is this a pick up line?" he asks.

"No!" she cries vehemently, turning even redder.

"Just checking," he grins. "You're just having me on though, right?" Clarke shakes her head. "You seriously haven't been able to uh… orgasm…" he swallows, looking a little embarrassed, "in four weeks?"

She shakes her head again.

"I don't believe you."

"You want to test it out?" she challenges, and there's only a second of hesitation, where his eyes flick down to her lips, before he's kissing her, making her stomach flip, and she can't help the whine that escapes her as soon as his lips meet hers. It's hot and somehow hard and soft at the same time, and she meets him with an open mouth, his tongue brushing against hers, their noses bumping ever so slightly. He pulls her into his lap and she grinds against the hard bulge in his jeans, her arms locking around his neck as his tongue traces her bottom lip before biting it softly. Clarke pulls at his shirt hurriedly, only removing her lips from his to lift it over his head and throw it to the floor.

"Don't be upset if you can't make me come, okay?" Clarke tells him breathily, feeling his toned biceps as he trails hot wet kisses down her neck and collarbone, slipping her shirt over her head so he can nuzzle her breasts.

"I'm going to be upset if I don't make you come at least twice," Bellamy murmurs, because he doesn't believe in the curse, presumably. He unclips her bra to expose her breasts and she shivers slightly. "Fuck," he swears as he takes her. "Fuck," he says again, before Clarke grinds against him again, feeling his cock twitch under her, sending thrills through her body. His hands grip her hips tightly and he takes a nipple into his mouth, making Clarke arch towards him, her eyes fluttering in pleasure as his tongue massages the hardened tip. But the pulsing between her legs is getting hard to ignore and she needs him to touch her there, _now._

"Bellamy," she whines, bringing a hand between them to undo his pants.

"Fuck, Clarke," he groans as her hand finds his way around his cock, and Clarke feels a thrill of pleasure at the way her name rolls of his tongue. He lays her down on the couch then, undoing her jeans and pulling them halfway down her legs before letting her do the rest herself while he removes his own pants. Clarke sits up to pull her jeans off, but she leaves her panties on in case he wants to do that part. Bellamy hesitates before he rejoins her on the couch, but even those few seconds without his touch makes her whole body ache for him. But then he's pressed against her again, kissing her fervently and she grabs his hand and leads it between her legs, rubbing herself against his fingers, already feeling her climax building, though she's doubtful it will even come. He pushes her panties aside then and she moans softly as he makes contact with her slick wet folds.

"You're so wet," he murmurs. "Is all this for me?"

"Yes," she gasps. She can't think straight, and she drops her head to his shoulder as he gently brushes his thumb over her clit repeatedly and she swears she's almost there, and she's almost thinks her sheer desperation will bring her over the edge, true love be damned, but then he stops, his fingers hovering just inside her.

"Bellamy, please," she begs, rocking her hips slightly, trying to get the friction going again. "The curse won't let me come, so please just fuck me. I need to feel your cock in me," she tells him breathlessly and he groans against her hair.

"Condom?" he manages.

"We don't need one," she assures him, and with one swift motion her panties are gone, and he stands up to remove his own underwear, and she finally gets to see his cock in all its glory. She pulls him back onto the couch then, unwilling to wait any longer, and she straddles him, setting his throbbing cock against her entrance, feeling her pussy pulse with anticipation. She gently lowers herself onto him and they both moan as he fills her, and she's already excruciatingly close to coming, if she was actually able to come at all.

Her breasts are pressed against his chest and her arms are clasped around his neck while his hands rest on her ass, and she looks into his eyes and she realises how much she needs this to be the real thing. She needs him to be the one, because she doesn't think she can bear having to be with someone else after this.

"Bellamy," she murmurs, and she feels him twitch inside her. "You have to make me come, okay?" she tells him.

"I will, Clarke," he assures her, wrapping an arm around her waist and thrusting against her, only gently but it hits her just right and she moans, her head rolling back in pleasure. She starts rocking against him then, her thrusts getting harder and more desperate as she feels the tension build inside her, ready to snap, and she's almost there, her moans have turned to silent gasps.

"Bellamy," she pants, almost ready to tell him she can't get there, she can't do it. But he cuts her off with a kiss and then she's falling apart, the waves of pleasure rolling over her, digging her fingernails into his back. She cries out and she's shuddering against him, unable to keep up her hip motions while she comes. He flips her then, onto her back, still inside her and he pounds his cock into her, and _fuck,_ she's _still_ coming as he comes inside her, her hands gripping the couch until she finally comes down.

"Fuck," she swears when she can finally manage words at all.

"Fuck," Bellamy agrees, sitting up. "Have you ever…" he trails off.

"Come that hard before?" Clarke finishes for him, also sitting up. He nods, his eyes trailing down to her still naked breasts before meeting her eyes again. Clarke shakes her head in answer to his question. "I told you, I haven't been able to orgasm in four weeks."

"That doesn't make any sense, Clarke," Bellamy tells her, shaking his head.

"Then how do you explain the orgasm I just had?"

"I'm just that good," Bellamy grins, which, Clarke thinks that's probably part of it. But the pent up sexual frustration must have had something to do with it as well.

"Fine, you don't have to believe in the dumb curse," Clarke huffs. "But believe this. I'm in love with you." Bellamy's eyes widen and for a second Clarke is worried she's ruined everything, but then he kisses her, just gently, and rests his forehead against hers.

"I'm in love with you too," he tells her, making her heart flutter, and she can't help but smile as she kisses him again, though their teeth clash because he's smiling too.

"So, you said you wanted to make me come at least twice," she reminds him, and Bellamy chuckles as he pushes her back against the couch and lowers his head between her legs.

* * *

"You seem weird," Raven narrows her eyes as Clarke joins the table at the bar the following Friday night. "Like… lighter."

"Oh my god, did you break the curse?" Octavia immediately guesses. Clarke glares at her, seeing as none of their other friends are supposed to know about the curse. But none of them looks surprised or confused, so Clarke presumes Octavia has told them all about it.

"No," Clarke denies, trying not to sneak a glance at Bellamy. Of course, it's kind of hard to hide, because she's just had a week of fantastic sex and she's practically glowing. Which, come to think of it, Octavia kind of is too.

"You seem weird too," Clarke accuses.

"Well," Octavia says slyly. "I was going to wait another week to tell you guys but… I'm pregnant," she grins. They all congratulate her and she soaks up the attention for a few minutes before turning her attention back to Clarke.

"Okay, so who'd you fuck? Who's your one true love?" Octavia asks. Clarke feels herself going red, and she _wants_ to tell them all, she really does. She and Bellamy know they can't keep their relationship a secret from their friends for very long. But she can't seem to form the words, so she just looks at him, hoping he'll help her out. He just grins at her, and then kisses her and she feels him chuckle against her mouth as the rest of their friends erupt into chaos.


End file.
